Playing Around
by CraftyNotepad
Summary: Someday, I'm going to write something clever here ...
1. How To Catch A Diffy

**D**-isney: a contradiction on to itself

**I**-diots: see "Imagineers, Disney" below

**S**-adness: emotional state brought about by the status of "hiatus"

**C**-alamity: that state which exists when the true meaning of "hiatus" is realized

**L**-egal claim to Phil of the Future: I have none.

**A**-rt: what you leave out of a creation

**I**-magineers: Disney: see "Idiots" above

**M**-esserschmitt: Frequently misspelled, so garnishes extra points on his exams

**E**-arnest: fans' affection for the series and its characters

**R**-eviews: your valuable contributions encouraging writers to create more Phil of the Future stories for your entertainment!

A.N.: Props to PotF fan-writer SlickNicKShady for providing the inspiration for this tale about ...

_**... **__**PLAYING AROUND**__** ...**_

_**by CraftyNotepad**_

Chapter 1 _-- How To Catch a Diffy_

Phil had never seen the hall carpet from this angle.

"PIM! YOU'RE DEAD! PAST EXPIRATION DATE! DEARLY DEPARTED! CUT ME DOWN! "

"Pim! Cut your brother down or there'll be no skyak use for a week."

"But Ma, tomorrow I've got a sweet deal closing with some Bolivian bobble head smugglers."

"You heard me ... did you say 'smugglers?' Pim, young lady, if I -- you -- what are we going to do with --"

"Nothing, Mom. I'm cutting him down. Just listen ..."

** BAMM! **

"Thank you, Dear. Now, play nice, Kids."

Phil rubbed the top of his head, wondering aloud, "I can't believe what you get away with. We should cage you like any dangerous beast."

Pim just smiled, like his notion was a compliment. "Cage. Yeah, that's a good idea. A cage. I haven't trapped you in one of those, yet."

Her brother was already tired of her latest pastime. Thus far, he had been suspended, wacky glued, stapled, pinned between opposing force fields, quicksanded (yes, when Pim Diffy is involved, quicksand can be a verb), and shrunk to be put on display in the Barbie's wedding window display at Pickford's Toy World. It seemed that his sister's plans for world domination just weren't enough to keep her interest these days and, so, lucky him, she had fallen back on making him miserable. At least she hadn't caught Keely in one of her traps, yet.

"I'm really getting tired of this, Pimple."

"Really tired?"

"What do you think?"

"I think I wouldn't go to sleep tonight if I were you no matter how 'tired' I was. 'Someone' is going to pay for that 'Pimple' crack. I'm just saying."

His hand smeared across his features, bending his nose to the left. Little sisters. There ought to be a law against them, a rule, at least a violation of etiquette in polite society. Something.

"Phil, Keely's here," Lloyd's voice carried without yelling.

"Thanks, Dad, I'll be right dow -- Keely! Don't step on the dark tiles!"

"Okay, but why not? Is it some future holiday ritual?"

"Yes, it's 'I-Wanna-Go-On-Living-Day.' Just don't. Pim did something to them -- I don't know what. Just don't go near them."

"Your hair's a mess. She got you again, didn't she? Trap you in the tumble dry cycle?"

"(Shh! She might be taking notes. Let's just go up to my -- no, it's not safe there, either.)"

A light bulb went off over Keely Teslow's head, rapidly followed by a bedeviling smirk that lasted only an instant before she composed herself and employed the maximum innocent quality she could muster in the tone of her voice, "Philly?"

"Yeah?"

"Since Pim is up to mischief ..."

"Mischief? Mischief?? ... Try Murder."

"... why don't we go study where it's safe?"

"The Pickford Library?"

"We could. I was thinking about my house. We always seem to study here ... where Pim can cause trouble. Let's try my home ... to get out of her line of fire."

"I've got to keep an eye on her, Keely. It's all that's keeping me one step ahead of her."

"I've seen your head of hair, Diffy. It ain't workin'."

Popping around the corner, Pim chimed in, "Yeah, that's a terrible idea, Butternut. OW!" Pim's head partially vanished back behind the wall.

Mrs. Diffy now had a firm grip on her sweet little girl's ear. Out of sight she could be heard to say, "I think that's a wonderful idea, Keely, and so will Pim after I have a little long overdue chat with her. Go on, Phil. You two go have fun."

With Mrs. D's blessing, Keely grabbed Phil's wrist and hurried him out the back door, serenaded by the sounds of Pim still negotiating the release of her now throbbing outer ear. She even dropped her Wizrd, which was heard to go ...


	2. Get Your Mind Out Of the Gutter

With naught but a look, Phil considered doing what he was told and removing his t-shirt. The last person on his mind now was ...

Disclaimer: Quit playing around. You know I don't own Phil of the Future. If I did, then would I really have to have written ...

_**... **__**PLAYING AROUND**__** ...**_

Chapter 2 _- Get Your Mind Out Of the Gutter_

_Klink! _Her keys landed in the bowl sitting in the old walnut plant stand, and slid right out over the lip to land on the hardwood floor.

"I'll get them, Keels."

"Thanks, Phil. I'll be right back." Keely wasn't headed for the bathroom; it was the kitchen. "Want anything to drink?"

"Maple Cola, if you have any." Phil settled in on the couch in front of the coffee table and settled into the couch. It felt so nice and comfy, he closed his eyes enjoy the experience, so he lost track of time a bit, even missing out of Keely coming into the front room and pressing the cold bottle of pop against his left cheek. Instinctively, his neck swiveled in the other direction, his lips running into hers.

"Phil Diffy, I thought you came over to study. If you're just trying to -"

Still in shock, her partner's voice was rushed and loud, "Me? No! I wasn't - I mean, I d-didn't mean - what I _mean_ is ... I don't know what I mean. I don't know what happened. I was just sittin' here and - ." Phil stopped. Keely was losing her balance, so in the process of doubling over with suppressed laughter. He'd been played. "Bratty Mc Bratty Brat."

"Gullible Guy."

"Troublesome Teslow."

"Easy-To-Fool Diffy."

"Pim."

"(_sniffle_)"

"I'm **SO** Sorry! I didn't mean it."

"That was low, Diffy. I didn't think you would ever be so mean as to go there."

"I can apologize from now until 2121 and it will never be enoug- hey. HEY! You're doing it again! Brat."

"(_GiGgLe)_ You are so easy to trick. Now, come closer."

"What? Why?"

"So we can share my textbook, Silly." Keely sat back down on his right; she'd been pick that side a lot lately. "You didn't bring yours, so how about a little appreciation for me helping you out, Diffy._We need to get this done tonight, so move ..._

* * *

_"... closer."_

"I don't know, Via. Something about this just seems wrong."

"Do you want to make it on the bowling team to get a Letterman's Jacket or not?"

"Well, yeah, but -"

"Look. It's not like I'm enjoying this. I'm doing you a favor. Remember that. Now, get back over here and follow my directions this time."

Owen approached the line once again. This was not going well.

"What did you forget again?"

"My balls?"

Olivia turned her head to hide her smirk, and controlled her voice so not to give away her amusement, "Just one, please. Go back and try it again, Owen."

The creamy pink bowling ball he was using somehow wasn't helping. He slid in his tall finger slowly this time, instead of jamming his long digit into the dark hole; he'd remembered the pain and he was not eager to repeat that mistake again. The rest of his digits followed suit, then he cradled his ball and approached the line.

Her hand started at the nape of his neck, massaging his tensing muscles, drifting down his shoulder, to his ball arm. Pausing at his biceps, she took full measure of him there. _No rush was she in, only complete control, making him perform as she wished until..._

* * *

_" ... your mother is going to be home any time now, Keels._ Do you really think we should be -?"

Keely pulled a note from her back pocket. It read:

_Busy night tonight, Sugar Beet._

_Eat dinner and go to bed early._

_I Love You!_

_Mom_

"We have the whole house just to ourselves. No Mom. No Pim. What do you say to 'no homework?'"

While Phil was fully realizing just what Keely was offering, he noted that the handwriting on the message was her own. Their friendship - did he now dare step over the line?_ Even if he did, with Mrs. T coming home the same time as usual, he might be ..._

* * *

_"... wasting the shot._ Quit stepping over the line, Owen. It'll never matter to the H. G. Wells Senior Bowling Team if you bowl strikes when you keep crossing the foul line with those tugboats of yours. You might as well be rolling gutter balls all night." Then Via walked up to him from the other side of the line, until he thought there was no more than a fingernails' thickness between their bodies, then facing him, she closed her eyes and whispered so only he could hear her, "There are boundaries, Owen. You have to stay on your side of the line all the time."

Owen gulped, "Always?"

"And I have to stay on mine. Always. We'll lose everything we've worked for, don't you realize, if you take unfair advantage. Now, pick yourself up, focus, and remember to keep on your own side - or, Owen," her voice lost none of its sincerity, but all its tenderness, "I'll hurt you in ways you can't yet imagine."

(GULP!) This isn't at all how he ever imagined spending time with his coach. Oh, she was touching him alright, sometimes even in the right places, but this trainer was sending him truly mixed signals.

"Take a practice run without releasing the ball. Come on, hurry. Now, freeze; hold it right there." Via took her time walking around her straining novice bowler, watching his muscles quiver and tense up. She wasn't shy or gentle with her touch, either, asking no permission to correct his stance as she lifted his head, dropped his shoulders, and reached between his thighs to spread apart his stance no more than a couple of millimeters.

"Via, maybe we should think this over again. Maybe we're trying to do too much too fast. How about we take a break and - ?"

"And what? You know when tryouts are. We don't have any time to waste._ This is our only opportunity and we better make ..."_

* * *

_"... the most of our evening while we can, Phil._ How often do we have time, and what's more, privacy, all to ourselves?"

"But, but, ... Keely ...?"

"No buts. Well, maybe one or two. Hey, you are the one who told me that you had learned that timing is everything," with a raised eyebrow, Keely challenged him.

"That's true, bu - I mean, uh," Phil faltered, then remembered that handwritten note she'd shown him and what else he had told her:_ "Sometimes you have to create your own ..."_

* * *

_"... timing is still way off._ Owen, take your shoes and socks off."

"But the lane rules ... I don't feel comfortable taking off my shoes and socks in the alley in front of you, Via, unless you want to slip into something more comfortab-."

"Owen, get your mind out of the gutter. This is to help you learn how not to throw gutter balls and embarrass me. You're going to have to improve a lot to impress me enough to let you go home tonight before this place closes."

"Ah, come on, Vee-uhh ..."

"Whining? Should we forget spending time on this together, then? Fine."

"No, Via, that's not what I meant. See? Ugly bowling shoes are coming off. Sock one, sock two. There. Better? All gone, Vee. Vee?"

And then, just to see if she could, and with a poker face that Vegas would dread seeing, "Now, lose the shirt, too."


	3. Sending and Receiving Signals

Disclaimer: Until I can find that signed cocktail napkin, I'll have to admit that I don't own Phil of the Future. Yet, don't let that from getting in the way of your fun. I know your type. Leaving me breadcrumbs leading me to empty promises, making me think you like me, when you really don't. I'm just your plaything. You're a user. Life to you is all about yourself as you go through life ...

_**... **__**PLAYING AROUND**__** ...**_

Chapter 3 _- Sending and Receiving Signals_

_... Bruno Longfellow considered himself clever on the gridiron, a genius, actually._ It was more than just being able to visualize the entire field of honor; his real advantage was being smarter than his opponent. For tonight's big game, he had trained for weeks; sure, the opposing team had been together for a long time, learning the plays, anticipating one another's moves with reflexes honed by experience and victories, but was he worried? Glancing to his teammate, Bruno's eyes met Alex's, expecting to see hunger for blood and glory. Instead, Alex blew Bruno a kiss and mouthed the words "I love you, Honeybear." Bruno loved Alex right back; he had for weeks now, but this was hardly the time to be distracted from the game. Alex knew what was at stake; Bruno knew what he had to do. Obviously, Longfellow had waited too long to make his intentions understood; somebody had to take charge, and as captain of the team, who better than Bruno Longfellow, champion? He studied his options, mouthed, "I love you, too, Pooh," and boldly threw down a trio of Queens for Alex to add to. Alex leaned across the card table to reward her partner with a smooch for his accomplishment. Bruno blushed.

"Are you two going to do celebrate in that manner after every little play?" Grady Spaggett queried with an admonishing tone. In truth, he was trying to psyche out the competition, more than actually disapproving.

"Maybe," Alex admitted with a wink and smile as she returned to her chair, her long brown hair falling back into place, once again concealing the spaghetti straps of her dress. Both the boys were staring, their preoccupation lost somewhere in the region defined between those two thin supporting cords. _Alex had never gone back to boys' clothes, credit to ..."_

* * *

_"... Keely had freed the top button on her blouse, hoping her study buddy was bright enough to pick up her signal._ That was ten minutes ago. Seemed her hopes were in vain, for Phil Diffy hadn't even kicked off his shoes, let alone his shirt.

"If you want to finish up question six, I'll start in on the next one," Phil proposed to his partner.

Keely Teslow played with her blouse's collar, widened her eyes as she delved into his eyes - why, she even licked her lips! How much more blatant a signal could she send?_ What did she have to do, kick him?"_

* * *

_"OW!"_

"Sorry. Was that you?"

"I'm the one screaming 'OW,' aren't I? Be careful, will ya?"

"I said 'Sorry.' What more do you want from me?"

"How about losing your spiked slippers for the rest of the game, Cinderella?"

"Just wait until the clock strikes midnight, Prince Charming. Just wait."

Whispering, "_Are they always like this?_" Bruno asked.

"_Pretty much these days,_" Alex responded in a secretive voice. "_You should see these two go at each other in Advanced Math. Nobody in the C.C. wants to partner up for a game with them anymore._"

"_I see why._"

"_No, you really don't. The worst is yet to come._"

"... your fault we don't have any cards down yet. If you'd look at your cards once in a while, we'd be in the lead, instead of languishing in last, Mr. Empty Pockets!"

"So, your excuse for not placing any cards down yourself is my fault? Fantastic logic! Nothing is ever your responsibility. I think my shin is bleeding."

"That's a pretty bracelet, Grace." No reply from Grace, not even recognition of Alex's compliment. "Um, is it my turn?" It wasn't, and she knew it, but no one seemed to care. Alex had timidly slipped her query into the conversation just to break up the tension. Two more Queens added twenty points to their score, joining her partner's first three, then Alex placed four Aces next to them. She loved Canasta. It was something that Bruno was willing to learn in order for them spend time together playing with Canasta Club at Herbert G. Wells during lunch, giving up eating with his crew. Bruno was willing to sacrifice his previous lifestyle just to make her happier, while their fellow Canasta card players tonight ... well, they only seemed up to quarreling.

"Pick a card, already, you dope."

"I'm reaching for it, aren't I? Let's see. (Groan) I got nothing."

His partner huffed. At least she was brief in her retort, he reflected with solace.

Bruno picked a new card, tucking it randomly inside his fanned collection of its partners. Alerted by his girlfriend, he no longer arranged his cards from the deck in numerical order, or even in pairs. There were just too many braniacs playing in the club and they read signals such at card placements with the same ease as he could read Handsome Town's signals on the field. Reaching for his soft drink, he considered what to discard from his hand, looked to Alex. She wasn't smiling. He couldn't decide between the Three and the Jack. Alex ran her fingers through her hair, using two fingers to tuck stray strands behind her left ear. He didn't have any Twos to give her. _He picked the Three of Clubs and looked to see if Grace had picked up on Alex's signal and, in response, what she'd do next ..._

* * *

_... was to play with the next button down her blouse, teasing Philly-Willy with it._ Sliding her fingers behind it at first, next Keely twisted it clockwise. If Phil was picking up her signals, he wasn't showing any of his cards - perfect poker face. Leaning forward to turn the page, she sat back down a little closer, causing their thighs to contact and heat up, and then consciously left her button alone for a minute, since she wasn't having any luck at all pressing his.

Phil was watching even if she didn't realize he was. While his friendgirl tried to get him to notice her buttons, she didn't realize he was indeed distracted by the spaces between them. Oh, how wonderful it was when she sat on his right. On his left was nice, but, oh, the right side of her blouse offered narrow slits of heavenly peek holes to her treasures she maintained beneath the fabric. He had seen a vision of this approaching, this confrontation Keely initiated tonight, and he hadn't even required the Giggle to assist him. The eyes? Ha! Those slits were the windows on her soul as far as he was concerned. He'd been glimpsing the changing fashions beneath for months, back from the days of practical and economic bras in white or floral prints, to the frilly lace ones she's been wearing lately, one part gossamer, one part wishful thinking. _Tonight, it's lilac, and she was teasing him much lower with the button fastened at the height of her navel, button number ..._

* * *

_... FIVE!_ Grace had been sandbagging! Maybe she had picked up on Alex's signal earlier in the game; whatever. Finally, Bruno had drawn a Two and discarded it so Alex might get it, and Grace swoops in first and snags it and the rest of the discard pile. She'd been holding five Twos in her hand for most of the game and, with the dumb move he'd made, she made an easy twelve points, plus everything Grace could cluster together in groups of three or more to add to their fortune of points. It was payday for her team, and she was grinning like the Cheshire Cat, uncontrollably giggling. Bruno whispered to his Alex, "_Is this what you meant by worst?_"

"_I wish! This isn't even close._"

"That's my girl! Go, Gracie; Go, Gracie! Who's my 'Queen of Hearts?' You are," chanted the other "G" at the card table. It was hard to decide which "G" was more annoying.

Bruno raised one of his bushy eyebrows as if to ask Alex, "_Now?_" The shaking of her head told him he'd still had to witness their worst.

Alex couldn't do anything with what she drew, but Grady was giddy with everything he could now unload from his hand now, thanks to Grace. The more cards he place down in their stacks, the louder he got, and something ... more. It was something that made Alex and Bruno uncomfortable to witness, shortness of breath, certainly, but not from his shouting. No, no, it was something more, something ... lower. What made things worse was that it was now in stereo. Grace was hyperventilating, too. Now, she had gotten up, placing her hand on Bruno's shoulder as she walked behind him to get to Grady. Bruno didn't know what Grace was doing behind him; all he could see was his date's face, and her eyes getting bigger. Before Grady could finish emptying his hand, Grace was distracting him with kisses, and he threw his remaining cards in the air as he reached for a touch of Grace.

"Game's over," Grady Spaggett announced.

"But we're not done."

Catching her breath as best she could, "We - concede your win," Grace declared.

Before they knew how they arrived there, Alex and Bruno found themselves on the front porch stoop with the door being slammed behind them.

"That, I take it, was 'the worst of it?'"

"Wait for it," Alex instructed, then loud, unrestrained groans emerged from the other side of the door. "Bingo. There it is. That is why no one wants to play with them anymore. Every time, they get this way."

"Gee, Alex, it's not so bad, really."

Alex gave him the look of someone who hadn't added up his sums correctly.

"Is it?" Bruno asked, his voice now sounding with the knowledge of his making a miscalculation, but without a clue as to where it was.

"They used us."

"How?"

"For you, this was a game. For them - this was foreplay."

With the tagging of that perspective spray painted in his mind, Longfellow felt used, even generating a shudder and "ew," followed by both of them nervously laughing to get over the experience, then together started making their way down the driveway and up the sidewalk.

"So, what do you want to do with the rest of our evening, Bruno?"

"After that? I'm just going to be very grateful that you're my sparkling Queen of Diamonds."

"Please, don't call me that ever."

"Six of Clubs?"

Alex chortled, "Nope."

"Ten of Spades?"

"Uh-uh," she was having a good time with him, her joker, but wouldn't resort to calling him that.

Bruno straighten up, looked into her eyes, then placed his hand under her chin to tilt her head up for a kiss. When their mouths parted, "I know. So obvious. 'Ace of Hearts.'"

"I like that." Another kiss. "I love it." Alex stood upon her toes in search of more kisses, and receiving them, raised one foot backward, up on the air, just like in the movies. Her sandal fell off. He noticed. Alex loved that about Bruno: nothing she did was unimportant to him - he noticed everything, and like a storybook prince, he picked her up easily, strode over to a car, and placed her on the hood to have a comfortable place to be seated while he retrieved her footwear. He did the whole Prince-Cinderella-slipper thing, just to give birth to her smile. Funny how she once worried how others would judge their jock and the math whiz coupling. When she was around him, she knew she had nothing to worry about at all. He held her tight after she bounced down from the car, neither of them wanting to release the other. _Some moments are just perfect, moments like ..._


	4. Lucky In LOVE

Disclaimer: "Dis" from the Latin, to bad talk your mama; "claim," meaning to proclaim for public knowledge; and "er,"the sound I make when asked where my proof is that I own Phil of the Future, after that I roll my eyes and smirk because you know me. You know I'm just ...

_**... **__**PLAYING AROUND**__** ...**_

Chapter 4 _- Lucky In LOVE_

_... Keely had had her way: shirts were off._ All of a sudden, the fashion adept Miss Teslow had an epiphany: shirts are stupid. All those hours upon hours she had spent shopping for the perfect blouses she now considered a waste of time, because it had nothing to do with how she wanted her skin to spend its time adorned from now on - just bare like this with her boyfriend. Warm and bare. Nice. Nicest, because she was with Phil this way. Sexy? Maybe not. He was still him; she was still her; there was just a reduction of above-waist textiles separating the two of them, presently. She felt Phil's fingers again finding the way up her spine, tickling her without trying. She'd have to stop and help him with her bra hooks, because he was a guy and he'd ... never mind, they're all free. Must be all that rapid typing his digits do. _My guy, he's a wonder ..._

* * *

_"... what'll we do tonight, Roswell?_ We could be entertained by the rebroadcast of the Senate oversight committee's hearings on used dental floss's impact on our national dumps. I'll bet not much; although, you and I should floss before bedtime; we fell asleep watching late, late, late, late-late-late, late show last night and I think I still have some potato chip wedged twixt my upper left molars."

"ARF!"

"No? Well, we haven't played Twister in many a fortnight. No, come to think of it, I don't think Phil Diffy ever returned our Twister for Terriers" game sheet from his doggy daycare days. What do you think, Buddy, should we send him an overdue bill for his tardiness?"

"Arf?"

"I knew you'd agree with me. Good dog. Good dog! Now, Mail - go fetch Daddy's mail, Roswell - mail. Go fetch!"

"Arf!"

"Good doggy! Now, give Daddy his mail, Roswell. Roswell? Roswell, Daddy needs his Victoria's Secret catalog. AW, Roswell! Don't get it all soggy! Bad dog. Bad, bad, bad. No tickle time for you if you eat the order blank."

_"RR-rr-RRR!"_

* * *

_"Keely Teslow!_ Did you just growl at me?"

"That wasn't a growl, I promise. It was a really deep purr, I promise."

"Happy purr?"

"Trust me, all purrs are happy ones, and that one was fully satisfied. Your turn, now."

"My turn?"

"Your turn. Purr for me."

"This guy doesn't purr. I'm really more of a dog person."

"Can't fool, Keely. You're a cat person. See?" Causing a scratching sound, she ran her fingernails across his emerging five o'clock shadow, now running almost two hours late; the sound brought about an image of sandpaper in her blonde brain, which made her think of an emory board being used, which reminded her that her mother had asked her to trim the claws of Noodles, the family cat; therefore, blonde logic deduced the obvious: Phil was secretly a cat person.

"Whatever you say, Keels. Um. Perr?"

"Mmm ... you need incentive," she replied tantalizingly, bouncing her eyebrows over and over, her mouth twisted up as she failed in her attempt to keep from all out grinning. Obviously, Teslow already had a plan in mind. As usual, Phil decided to surrender to her wishes.

_Taking a breath, then closing his eyes as he feels her fingers fumbling to open his zipper and get her hands on his ..._

* * *

_... moist piece of mail._ Yucky. Puppy spittle. Bill, bill, bill, junk mail, may-already-have-won-a-million-dollars, another overdue alimony payment notice from her *&^#$ attorney ... what's this? "To Discerning Singles ONLY." Lonely Assistant Principal Neil Hackett's letter opener makes short work of the paper and cellophane envelope. Inside, he finds a simple printed flyer inviting him to try out a free hour of online dating. It touted that this was different. Online dating taken to the next level by utilizing computer avatars. "Roswell, Daddy's going to put you outside for a little while. He's going cruising for LoVE on the information highway."

"Arf? Arf?"

"I knew you'd understand. Good Roswell. Let's get you outside for now. _The next hour is for grown ups and you're still too young for anything, but puppy love."_

* * *

_"Really, that's the song that's been going through your head for the last five minutes, Keely?"_

"And they called it puppy luh-uh-uh-uhv, but I guess they'll never know ..."

"Please, spare me the rest."

"... how a young heart really Fee-ee-ee-eels ..."

Phil grinned, "I think I have a vague idea. Speaking of hearts, ..." he paused just in case Keely intended to continue her serenade. She was merciful. "... somebody here loves you."

"A little or a lot?"

"Let me check. A little ... here."

"Hee-hee. Don't."

"A little ... there."

"Not (GigGle) fair. HA-HA!I'm so ticklish. Phil?"

"Carry the one ... dunt, dunt, duhhhh ... oh, this can't be the correct answer, can it? (Sigh) Is there maybe a third option?"

"(whimper) Not at all? (cringe)"

"Nah. I mean the other third option: 'Absolutely totally now and always.' Yup. That's what it adds up to. Phil plus Keely equals Always and Forever."

"Really?"

"(sigh) Wanna look over my figures?"

"Why did you think I wanted you to take off your shirt, Math Man?" Keely kissed him and he kissed her back. _She looked longingly into his brown eyes, running her fingers through his brown ..._

* * *

_"... hair._ Long blonde hair as befits one of my, er, height? Okay, I'll admit to myself that my avatar may not look like I do on the outside - at the moment, but it reflect the true me, the one who will emerge very soon thanks to my weasel extract hair revitalization ointment. I wonder what portion of the weasel it's extract from. Uggh. I'm probably better off in the dar-har-har-hark ... here I go. My avatar is being place in a virtual bar, a tiki bar on a beach? O ... kay. Guess I'll grab a glass of wine and see what happens next."

(45 Minutes Later)

"This is a boring site. Even my avatar is bored. Even his hair is bored, except for when the virtual seagulls virtually pooed on me, I mean, 'him.' I should have just gone to bed early. Might as well pull the plug on this desert isle and sign off. This was a total waste of my valuable time. Daddy's coming, Roswell."

"Time? It's time you walked into my life, big and handsome. Where have you been all my life?"

Walking on screen was another avatar, one decidedly crafted to represent a demure female. One, I also acknowledged, possessing good judgment. Instantly, I moved my cursor away from the dangerous Exit icon, and maneuvered my dapper doodling digits over the home row keys, wondering how far I'd get in fifteen minutes. Glancing in the corner of the screen, I did some mental math. 8:12; I had until then to - darn. Over estimated, again, just like I did with the recording of Masterpiece Theater; 8:07; I only have until then, unless ... tappity, tap, tap, "Waiting for you to wake up from dreaming the dream, discover if you're ready to live the dream."

"Sounds so dreamy. Are you dreamy-dreamy, Dreamboat?"

She called me "dreamboat." We could honeymoon on an old-fashioned paddle wheeler up the mighty Mississsip', sipping mint juleps after dancing on deck at sunset_. Ahh ..."_

* * *

_"... I told you I could give you reason to purr, Phil Diffy._ That sound was definitely endowed with purr-like qualities. It was ..."

"Go on; say it."

"No."

"You're going to do it, Keels. You know you can't stop yourself."

"Can, too. You don't know everything, Giggle-guy."

"Five, four, three, two," Phil mouthed the rest. Keely stood her ground, raised one eyebrow in victory until Phil coaxed her with ...

"Come on, Keely, say it, say it, 'It sounded …" Phil's mouth was literally trying to make her say the word his was modeling. He thought he knew her so well. That's the problem with dating your best friend, he does.

Keely slapped her hand over her mouth, shook her head "no," and ran upstairs. Phil started to rise to follow, but the view was just too captivating: Keely Teslow just in her jeans and that glorious mane of hers. That was a memory he'd treasure, one of millions, billions more to come and be cherished. It was quiet while he reflected, until she came running down the stairs attempting to hide something behind her back. He knew where this was going and it made him smile. She made him smile. More than that, she made him happy.

"Ask me again. No, wait. That's not it. 'Phil, you sounded," she squeezed her kitty-cat bag to have it fill in the blank for her, "-fect."

"I sounded 'meow-fect'?"

Keely shook a little, in that nervous realization of a plan not coming together, "It sounded so purr-fect in my head."

"Feel better, now?"

"Relieved. Yeah._ I'm relieved ..."_

* * *

_"... to finally have found a nice man," Heather admitted online._ "You wouldn't believe how fake most guys are around here."

"I'm definitely a 'what you see is what you get' kind of guy, Heather."

"I can tell. I love your hair."

She likes my hair. Good thing I'm not bald on my head. Eyebrows are on the head and they are hair, aren't they? Eyelashes, too. And then there's ear hair, nose hair, oh, and I shave!

"They show up for ten minutes and if they can't find a sure-thing for tonight, they're out of here and on to the next fishing hole. Neil, you're different. You're no phony. You're my everything, Dreamboat. You're -"

[YOUR TRIAL PERIOD WILL END IN 30 SECONDS. Click CONTINUE to enter your credit card information to continue your online experience.]

I can't lose Heather now, my soulmate, but my credit card was cut-up at the Choco-Hut after my therapeutic binge after Gwendolyn. What can I do? What?

"Neil?"

"Hetather, call me now at 905 555-1212"

"Oh, Neil, I'm having ERROR 4$D25: UNABLE TO PROCESS USER DIRECTIVE: REBOOT."

"Hea-Heather? Just part of a program? OMG, you're not even real. Women._ The luck I have with women is the absolute ..."_

* * *

_"... best. I am the luckiest guy in the world."_


	5. Back Seat Driving

Author's Note: SlickNickShady needs some cheering up, and since I've picked up a new reviewer (always placing me in a generous mood) and Boris has been so faithful as a reviewer (looking forward to your stories, soon, Boris), here's the next chapter a day early. - CraftyNotepad

Disclaimer: 182 ... 182 ... I know it's around here somewhere. When I find number 182, I'll knock on the door and ask Pim to provide the proof. Okay, yes, I know it's going to cost me big time, next month's allowance, at least, but what are my options? Asking Curtis? Are you serious, or are you just ...

_**... **__**PLAYING AROUND**__** ...**_

Chapter 5 _- Back Seat Driving_

_"- there's a better game ever invented than this?"_

"This is fantastic! And you - you're incredible! Oh, Baby! Where'd you learn to do that?"

"I learned it from Pim, of course."

"PIM? My Pim? Why doesn't she ever play with me this way? It's not as if I haven't begged her to spend some time with me and show me her best moves."

"Aw, poor Danny. Would taking your turn early help?"

"No, I'm fine. I'll wait. _It's still your turn to play with ..."_

* * *

_"... my 'joystick,' Keely._ PLEASE Do Not Stop on my account."

"But you seemed - uneasy."

"Very."

_"Then -"_

* * *

_"Was I complaining? WAS I?"_

"No. Not exactly, but you are being a back seat driver."

"I'm just paying attention, following along so I'll know what's been handled already. That's not back seat driving, Debbie, it's just - oh, go up there! Hurry! Go!_GO!_ _**GO!**_"

"Here, you can play with your own joystick. I'm going to have some juice. This makes my mouth drier than I expected. Want some?"

"After my turn. I'm not going to make hasty choices and lose points because I need to run to the bowl."

"You seem to be enjoying the game, Danny. Is this your first time?"

"Does it look that way? I'm good, right? Pim says I'm a regular Wizard with this thing."

"Sure, Danny. I can honestly say that I've never seen anyone go so completely to get the fun done as quickly as possible."

"Huh? What does that mean?"

"Nothing. _It's just that I thought you said you've had experience playing before.)_ Did you want to pass by all those free extra lives? What about upgrades? And energy pellets? You're just rush, rush, rush to get to the ending without taking advantage of all the opportunities at hand to enjoy and benefit from. Believe you me, Danny Dawkins, you'd have a lot more fun playing with your joystick if you did if you didn't pass by all that other good stuff."

"Well, I have to admit, you are really impressive to watch when you're really committed to scoring high. Wanna give me some advice on what I should do next? I'll be a fast learner. _I promise that you ..."_

* * *

_"... don't have to be fast, Keels._ I'm enjoying your attention, as always. Mmm, a little harder, please. MMM. Very nice."

"I wanna do good, Phil. Make you feel good."

"Tell you what, provided you don't pull off any of my favored appendages, considered yourself with the top score possible each and every time - that is - we are going to do this again, right? Please? Pretty please, I'll be your best friend."

"[giggle] You already are. Forever and ever. So, you don't mind if I do this? [giggle]"

"No. [sigh] Doesn't really do anything for me, but it's not a problem for me."

"How about this?"

"BB-bb-BET-TER. Nice. Just like that. Thank you. Just what I hoped for."

"How about over her-"

"TENDER. Please be careful!_ Yes, softer is better."_

* * *

_"Really? Because I like to jerk it around._ I get more action that way. See?"

"Danny, hasn't Pimmy told you the importance of timing. It's not just a matter of hitting the right buttons, you have to get into sync, pay attention to what's going on and do it when it feels right."

"Jerking my stick around feels right."

"Here; let me hold it. I'll show you what can be accomplished with more controlled maneuvering."

"Hey, it's not your turn, yet."

"Gimme!"

"No."

"I said, 'Gimme,' Danny. Don't you want to learn how to play with your joystick better, or are you just going to settle for going through life mistakenly manhandling your precious joystick your way?"

"My way works fine, Debbie."

"You're doing it all wrong, I tell you."

"I like handling it the way I do, hard and fast, and the faster, the better."

"You're going to snap it off doing it your way._ How much fun will you have after that?"_

* * *

_"Still having fun, Phil?"_

"Still not complaining, Keely. I could stand this -mmm- all day long."

"I can't. My hand is getting tired."

"Oh, sorry."

"I thought you'd, you know, go off. Wasn't I -"

"You did great, Lady. I just don't have to explode to have a good time playing. I just need to be playing with my best friend."

_"Oh, Phil. You're wonderful."_

* * *

_"Deborah Hortence Berwick. **You're wicked cool**."_

"It's not so hard. Here, give me your hand and let me show you. Pay close attention now, because I want you to understand that I'm not going to be here all the time to do it for you. See there? You can be gentle and get the job done. Use a light, but firm touch and - no, don't just yank it again with the action gets going. You have to remember that you're the one in control. Better. Good! Now, appreciate being in the moment and all the opportunities it's offering you." Debbie passed the joystick's complete control over to Danny, then scooted herself behind him, adding, "You're now scoring higher than ever before, Danny." Her hands started firmly, but lightly to massage his once tense shoulders. "How's that feel, Wizard?"

"Good. Real good. But what should I do now?"

"Boys," she rolled her eyes. "You already know the terrain. Go up there, now down, deeper, now up, up - I mean, all the way to the top, Mr. Wizard! GO!**GO THERE**. O**BEY** ME! O**BEY ME** OR Y**OU WI**LL BE **DESTROYED**."

"Uh, Deb?"

"PICK UP YOUR J**OYSTIC**K **AGA**IN AND F**OLLO**W **MY **DIR**ECTIONS**. WE W**ILL B**E VICT**ORIO**US ... _THEN **WE** **WILL BAKE** ..."_

* * *

_"... cupcakes?_ Seriously?"

"Really, Keels. It's like sliding a frosted cupcake into my mouth, topped off by a lovely little nibble for me just to keep me interested."

"Well, if you find mine so boring ..."

"NO! It's not that. Not at all, Lady. All I'm saying is that it's fun to play with."

"All for you; you and only you, Sweetie. I've saved them both for you."

"Two. Just the number I was hoping for."

"Ha-ha. Good! Because that's all you're getting, Mister. Why? Are there other options in the future?"

"Do you want a story, Keely? Okay, lie down and I'll tell you a bedtime story. Mmm ... No, on second thought, you've suddenly inspired me with another notion with you in that position. WHat? WHy are you rolling over?"

"I feel vulnerable."

"You're suppose to around me. You're safe with me, because I'll never hurt you." She can feel his hands upon her, confident and strong. "You can finally let your guard down, Keels. I'll protect you, always."

"Alright. So, I will, but I'm not rolling over, Diffy."

He started kissing her toes, which made her bubble with giggles of laughter and pleas for him to stop.

"You said I was 'safe.'"

"Absolutely. Safe with me, always," he admitted to as he reached for her panties.

_"Eek!"_

* * *

_"**DiD I **GiVE yOu PEr**MIS**SioN TO **STOp PLaYING**, DaNnY? Di**D I**?"_

"Eek!"

"**Ar**e**N'**T yOu H**APP**ie**r nO**W? Yo**u'V**e **wo**n** - GAM**E OVER, D**AwkiN**S! TiM**E FoR **y**O**u t**O** S**Ho**w yOu**R **GRA**Tit**UDE Fo**R** mY H**elP**. CO**mE** to M**aMA**. y**O**u a**R**e Mak**ING**, **Me HOT,** Lil' D."

"Th-thank you."

"I H**Ate** OVeRHe**aTi**NG. H**At**e iT!"

"Eeee...k."

"W**Ha**t's **yOuR P**roBlem, W**iz**RD?"

_"I wish tonight I had just ..."_


	6. Scrabbling at the Diffys

Author's Note: I'm just disgusted that some readers have suggested that this story is about - well, I can't even say it. In order to clear things up, this chapter returns us to the bosom of wholesomeness which is Diffy Family Game Night. Really, People. You have dirty minds.

Disclaimer: PotF? Why would I say I don't own "Pim of the Future?" That's just silly. Everyone knows who owns PotF. Hey, don't get sore. You know that I'm just ...

_**... **__**PLAYING AROUND**__** ...**_

Chapter 6 _- Some Call It 'Foreplay', Because Four Can Play_

_"... higher, Phil started kissing the backs of her calves, causing Keely to kick the pillow off the bed, unable to resist the tickling sensation._ Rolling over to protect herself from this sensation, she exposed herself to a new dilemma as his lips moved up her thighs. Higher and higher his affection treated her until he reached a spot that his kisses hadn't yet arrived to make wet;_ nevertheless, this region was just ..._

* * *

_"'SoppingWet.'_ Eleven points. Think you can do any better, Dear? Oh, wait, two words. Okay, I can change it to 'dripping.' Sixteen points!"

"'Undulating.' Seventeen! Who's your daddy, now? Beat that, Pim!"

"'Nirvana.' Double word score, Daddy Dearest. 28 points. Guess that makes Mama the daddy."

"No band names. Take it all off."

"It's a good word. Um ... you mean some band stole the word and called themselves "Nirvana'? The nerve of those hippies."

"I don't see you taking of yours off yet, Pop Tart."

"Now, Daddykins, would I cheat? There's really no need to-"

"Take it all off, Pim. All of it. Right now, I want to see everything you put down pulled off - gone."

"Don't you dare touch those, Old Man. They're mine! I'm not removing anything just because you order me to."

"Barb, a little help with our daughter, please?"

"Oh, I'll Help, alright. It's about time we took charge of this once and for all."

"HANDS OFF, MOM! I didn't agree to your getting involved with us. This is between Daddy and his princess."

"Relax, Princess Pim. I've done this hundreds of times before for your father and he's never complained. I'm just going to settle this by getting the dictionary; that's all, Dear."

"Quit helping! He's old enough to know how to play. He's probably old enough to have invented the game. _He's not ..."_

* * *

_"... helpless, you know."_

"I know, but isn't it nice having me do this for you for a change? Just lean back, Keely. I really don't think of this as work, at all. Feeling and listening to your reactions - sorry if I'm clumsy, but I'll get better. I promise."

"You're doing - FINE! PHIL! FINE! _**FINE!**_"

"Mmm - I'll have to remember to visit that bit later on. Me thinks you liked that just a little."

"W-wipe that grin off your face, Diffy. You're going to take me farther than that, I hope."

_"Keely, just give me a chance and I'll take you to ..."_

* * *

_"... 'Nirvana._ From the Sanskrit, a state of blessed oblivion, intense majesty, elevated wonder.'"

"Wow! It's a real word."

"Pim, you didn't know that in the first place? I don't know; does it count then?"

"Um, I wonder how Phil and Blondie are enjoying doing their homework at her house."

"Never mind, Pim. I'll give you 'nirvana' if you'll just get your head back into the game. Now, whose turn is it, as if we didn't know?"

"WHoz?"

"Curtis, it's your turn. It's always your turn after mine. Get used to that. It's a rule in this house: the girl always comes first."

"CUrtis no LIke RuLE. No LIke SKRabble."

"Curtis, do you have to always make everything wet and slippery by putting it in your mouth? Ew. Spit those letters out. You don't know who touch them last and who's going to want to touch them after you've salivated on them?"

"hOW sPEll 'M'?"

"You have to use vowels, Brillo Head. A, E, I, O, U."

"Vou-ELLS? WHat THey Do?"

"They make lip sounds, like Ahhh, Ooo, Oh. "

"CUrtis LIKE. Ahhh, Ooo, OH! Ahhh, Ooo, OH! Ahhh. Ahhh. Ahhh. OH! OH! OH! Uh! UH! Uh! UH! Ahhhhhhhh..."

Three Diffys blush together as one, daring not to sigh aloud themselves.


	7. Dames, Darts, & Daiquiris, Darling

Disclaimer: After six chapters, I wonder if anyone is even reading my disclaimers anymore. Let's do an experiment. anyone brave enough to write a review just on disclaimers? But then you might stop reading. I guess you already know that I don't own Phil of the Future, but if you stopped reading, you'd miss last call and - hey, you do have I.D. to get into the pub, right? Otherwise, you're not allowed to read below, because tonight we'll be ...

_**... **__**PLAYING AROUND**__** ...**_

Chapter 7 _- "GNO" equals Dames, Darts, & Daiquiris, Darling_

_... waiting her turn, Teslow took another sip from her, well, numbers aren't really important if you're having a good time, current drink._ This felt good, having a night out with the girls from the real estate office; they really ought to make this an annual - monthly - weekly - ritual. She was having the best time. Everyone was so, so, so-so, so happy. There were new people in the pub that they had challenged to a friendly game of darts and somebody was winning. Oh, and she had a new audience to introduce (show-off) photos of her sweet Jelly Roll.

"What a lovely coat your Jelly Roll has."

"What a lovely -? But she's not wearing a coat."

"What do you mean? Of course, she has a coat. How could Jelly Roll not have a -"

"YOU'RE looking at the cat. Her name is Samantha. My daughter is the girl holding the cat. Of course, this was taken when she was nine. She's bigger now."

"Huh? You mean you named your cat 'Samantha,' and you named your daughter 'Jelly Roll'?" Mandy's latest viewer of her photos turned to skedaddle away before she could be set straight. Ah, nuts to her. Who's next? There's one! "Hey, there. Hi! Wanna see the prettiest little girl in the world?_ This one's my daughter KEELY when she was nine and not wearing a fur ..."_

* * *

_"... coat you in sugar and lick you clean."_

"That's sounds like your secret cat person is emerging, Phil."

"Guess you were right about me."

"Of course, I am. I know everything about you that's important. I was very careful before I gave you my heart." Teslow played with his hair, grooming her man, nearly preening him. She hadn't played with dolls in ages; while this did call up familiar memories, Phil was so much better than Ken. For one thing, he wasn't plastic, like some boys._ And he had a brain, too; Phil Diffy was definitely ..."_

* * *

_"... sharp, so watch it._ You don't hand darts over that way unless you're trying for multiple blood samples. That's better." Teslow took the tail end of the darts, then had some help as her buddies pointer her in the general direction of the pub's dart board. Watching the entire debacle was a moonlighting Coach Buchinsky, tonight's bartender, who was presently congratulating himself for posting disclaimers above and below the dart board:

[ Management is not responsible

for lost darts, injuries or damages

due to the judgment or aim of

amateur or pro participants, but - ]

and

[ - this includes bystanders, too.

Friends, before you commit,

take some good advice:

Watch Where You Sit! ]

With tonight's crowd, they'd get some use, he'd wager.

"Seven in the corner pocket," she predicted for her throw. Teslow's crew laughed at her faux pas - until she nailed the seven - then their escaping gasps were reminiscent of an old time steam locomotive coming to a stop. Keely's mom's remaining darts followed suit, delivering themselves where she addressed them to be. Gasps were replaced by cheers! Those outside of her chums thought they were witnessing a lucky streak, maybe even a skilled dart fanatic. Her coworkers knew better. Teslow could sink a crumpled up phone memo into a waste basket from across the room, and into a coffee cup at half that distance, but what she was infamous for was wearing out the center of the dart board on the back of her office door. Whenever it was closed, everyone knew better than to enter without knocking; rumor was that her dart board once framed the picture of a man who'd done her wrong, and that's how she became phenomenally adept at hitting the bull's-eye, taping up smaller and smaller photos until he was no larger than the red center. _Teslow rarely missed ..._

* * *

_... being face to face, cuddled up in a ball._ Yes, those kittens were precious, yet not as much so as the pair of bare lovers who had moved to Teslow's more comfortable bed. They were cozier, too, under her covers, spooning. There were many Phil-like qualities which she found endearing, and among the best was his ability to enjoy taking his time, letting both of them take their time. Presently, he was taking his time with her tummy, moving slow and easy, actually making a conscious effort not to tickle her. She appreciated all of that, especially that last part. He really did love her so much, always putting her comfort before his own, her wants, her needs. Didn't he have needs to? Rolling over to face him, she witnessed his smiling face. He was happy. Now, what about his needs? Teslow reached between directly between Diffy's legs; not shy anymore, this one. Phil liked that, but instead of being selfish and letting his bedmate do all the work (or have all the fun; it's a matter of perspective), he reciprocated in kind. _Teslow made happy sounds as ..._

* * *

_... it was announced she'd won another round of drinks for her team mates._ Eight rounds and the challenging team was practically sober, while - well, if you remember, Teslow was pretty sloshed to begin with. Mind you, her throws were sloppier, but that wasn't only from the prizes she'd been downing from her wins; she was getting prideful, too, taking to heart all the compliments being touted about her dexterity with darts. This was destined to be her downfall as down another glass of white wine. Her competition, if she could call her that, was steady in throws. Teslow wondered if that was from misplaced hope, or simply the lack of inebriation due the loser. Whatever. Didn't matter. Her teammates urged their champion to earn them more drinks yet again, and she found now familiar darts thrust into her palms. _Studying them with questionable vision, she claimed one, grasping it around its ..._

* * *

_... shaft, holding it firmly, turning it ever so slightly with her fingers, noting how skin willing followed along with her hand even while what was hot and firm only would bend a bit._ Hearing no complaints from her playmate, she continued. Removing herself just to lick her palm, she felt him reach up her thigh, her belly, ... what did he want?

She reached for him and he took her wet palm, rubbing his palm into hers, feeling the thin layer of moisture her tongue had painted on it. She'd need more. He pulled her hand between her legs, ignoring her plea to stop. Didn't she know how wet she was? Drenched in her own fluids, her hand was hers once more. Now, what was she doing before he made her do that? Oh, yeah._ She grabbed on to him once more and ..._

* * *

_... found out that her aim had drifted to the right and down._ Groaning erupted in the room, by her side and onlookers. The only cheers for her emanated from her opponents.

"Come on, Teslow. Keep your head in the game!"

"Teslow. Teslow. Teslow."

"Don't say my name three times. You'll jinx me."

"Okay, Okay. Just nail the board."

She was losing her focus, getting emotional. Sloppy._ Reaching down, her fingers slipped and her thumb was rewarded with such ..._

* * *

_... a little prick, but it was all hers and no one else's._ He'd promised her and he always kept his promises, unlike some people. Most people. It was this oddness, this meaning what he said and standing by his word that had attracted her to this boy from another time. There was never another Phil, nor would there ever be. Somehow, she had been lucky enough to have him fall into her lap, and ultimately brave enough to admit to the world that she loved him. They were a couple, certainly; best of all, despite their different backgrounds, they made sense together. _It was this that bonded them, not how they looked, or even the different taste now in her mouth, reminiscent of something ..._

* * *

_... salty around the rim of the glass._ Teslow had scored just high enough to pull off another round of drinks, but her friends seemed to sense that this might be their last. Getting to this stage of the game, they had had a lot of fun tonight, more than they had expected when they had entered the room; however, their fun? It should be culminating soon. Their champion would need a ride home. Bavarian Bees' Wax! She wasn't even facing the right direction for her throw! They rushed to her assistance to aim her at least toward the board, grabbing her shoulder, spinning her about and telling her, _"Not ..._

* * *

_"... yet, Phil._ Don't you dare end this yet. We've waited too long to get here. How about showing me some of that famous Diffy patience, Time Traveler?"

He sucked in lungs' full of air and waited to regain control. She didn't appreciate how hard this was to do when she smelled like this, kissed him like that, letting him inside her. As if she could read his thoughts, Teslow pushed off of his chest and sat up. Different position, that helped a bit. She smiled at him. That counted more. But that, despite her recent tone, she was happy, this is what gave him the will power to hold back what was building inside him, desperately demanding an exit. Yes, it all would have been fine and dandy _... but then she started riding up and down him, ready to start bouncing ..._

* * *

_... off the walls like a superball._ One of the opposing team taunted her by reenacting a William Tell moment in miniature by pinning a stemmed cherry from Teslow's own drink over the bull's-eye for the dartboard ace to try and hit as if the fruit was a tiny red apple atop the noggin of her daughter. Could Teslow pierce her cherry?

"Just one more [HIC] shot. Make Mama proud."

The dart flew as if Cupid himself was making its flight true. _Unlike the recent throws, this one was ..._

* * *

_... strong, bold, and determined to score by hitting her ..._

_... "BULL'S-EYE!"_

The room was filled with screams of joy, of satisfaction, and of astonishment for how this anticipated moment made them feel.

Everyone had been waiting for this for so long, the final crescendo of tonight's symphony, and it wasn't a disappointment. Mind you, watching that dart impale itself upon that patch of red in the middle of the target, like so many darts had done before on targets of their own might have seemed common place to those not understanding all the practice, effort and sacrifice that had gone into tonight's triumph. Scoring win after win was a matter of more than being in the right place at the right time. It was everything that had gone on before which made tonight right and possible. Standing up stiff and true, the dart's tip was coated in red juice from the cherry it had just popped.

Was it the act itself, the thrill of this victory,_ or maybe the hugs that followed that left her ..._

* * *

_... breathless, but happy._ Both of them had wanted this, but she was the one who had pulled off making this work tonight. Everything seemed to fall into place to help her, from her mother spending a rare night out with her real estate office friends, to Pim driving Phil into such a panic with caging her brother that he fell right into Teslow's trap. She felt him soften inside her, sliding out as she fell unto his chest, rolling over beside him, but having to reach for him once more…

"Have fun?"

"I did. Maybe, maybe ... we can play again some night soon? Right now, though, I think we're pushing out luck to continue anymore tonight."

"We've been luckier than we've had a right to be, sure, but then, we always have, haven't we?"

Kisses were traded freely, more promises were made. _He'd keep his without a second thought, while Teslow would ..._

* * *

_... need a ride home._

"That was wonderful! I love you! Tonight, I love everybody! I feel so, so ... actually, I can't even feel my feet. Has anyone seen my feet?"

"I don't know. You walked in with them, didn't you, Teslow? Maybe, before you go home to your cat and daughter, Jelly Bean, you wanna let your friends clean you up? No kidding, Kiddo."

"Hate to admit the sober sore loser over there is right, but in all the years I've known you, _Teslow, you've never looked so ..."_

* * *

_"... happy._ I'm really happy, Phil. I didn't know true happiness could be like this."

"It's only because you love me. Without your heart's devotion, all I did wouldn't amount to a smear of wallaberries. Um, speaking of 'smears,' this is going to stain, right?"

"OH! NO! Mom is going to kill me dead."

"Relax, I'll just use my wiz- uh-oh."

"Uh-oh?"

"Nothin.'"

"Don't say 'nothin'' like it's nothin'. 'Uh-ohs' are never nothin' good. Tell me."

"My wizrd -"

"Don't say it! You forgot it, didn't you? It's too late, now. What are we going to do, Phil? Why weren't you thinking ahead? The one time I really need you to be planning ahead, you pull this!"

"Well, you rushed me out of my house so fast that I didn't have the chance to grab my Wizrd in case something would happen so it could fix things. Didn't you scotchguard this or something?"

"Oh, so it's my fault? I was supposed to provide the protection ... for the sheets?"

"Now, don't get upset. It's no big deal."

"Biggest big deal! Mom! My mother will be home any minute. Don't, Diffy, don't tell me not to get upset! I'll, I'll, ... Ooh! You make me so mad sometimes."


	8. Out, Out, Damn Spot

Disclaimer: Another day of being grateful for FanFiction. Without it, I'd just be memorizing the episodes; instead, you people take me on new adventures. Even thought I don't own PotF, I hope you've enjoyed this little tale about ...

**_... PLAYING AROUND ..._**

Chapter 8 - Out, Out, Damn Spot.

"... your mother comes home. She'll be here any minute, so get in here and help me or I'm going to tell her just what you did. I mean, really, this mess was your doing, not mine; the least you could do lend a hand. Get over here and scrub to get this red stain out. I don't care how broke I get. I am never coming over here to do this for money again!"

"Maybe you shouldn't yell. It's counterproductive ... and a little frightening. He won't want to come out to 'play' again if you scare him."

"Did I ask you for your thoughts? No. I didn't. Just do what I say and grab him when he stick his head up, Lamky. Until that happens, just keep scrubbing for all you're worth."

"We're never going to get this juice stain out. It's just fading to pink. What are we going to do, Candida? Who are we going to blame this on? Why are you looking at me that way?"

"Isn't it obvious? Because I'm in love, in love with you. You take such good care of me, Phil."

"You do, too. You always have. Protecting my secrets. Being my best friend. Learning to love math."

"Maybe not 'love'."

"You know what I mean, Keely. Whenever I get in trouble, well, you're there to help make things right again. We take care of one another like a couple of -"

"A 'couple'. You can stop right there, Sweetie Pie. We're a couple ..."

* * *

"... of dead ducks in about two minutes. Arrgh! Where is that midget mustachioed monster of mayhem? I swear, short people should be locked up. Pigmy Pim-ple Diffy is an embarrassing annoyance, but nano Nathan is justification for passing a retroactive abortion law. So's Diffy, come to think of it. Still, she's nowhere near the pest this dwarf worm is."

"Annelid."

"Gesundheit."

"You two are about the worst pair of baby sitters I've ever had, probably the worst in recorded history."

"LET ME AT 'IM! I want to shred him like an old pair of jeans! I'll - Let Go Of Me, Fiona. I'll murdelize him!"

"Messerschmitt's still his uncle, or had you forgotten, Candida?"

Candida freezes, holding Nathan in her stare. "The dead don't have relatives, Lamky," a wicked smile formed across Candida's face, beneath those two hot coals that were once her eyes, "just funeral guests. Now, let me finish him off for good before -!"

"I have returned! Where's Mama's little angel, Bubulas?"

* * *

"Hi Mrs. Teslow. We're up in Keely's room."

"Are you nutso, Phil? We haven't even finished making the bed yet."

"What was I supposed to say? 'Go drive around the block a couple more times?' She's here, Keely, and has to be dealt with."

"If we had stayed quiet, Phil, she would have assumed that I was over at your house, as usual, studying."

"Oops. Sorry."

"You're saying that a lot lately."

"I'm sorry."

"Pumpkin Buns?"

"Coming Mom. (_Just hurry, Phil!_) Did you have ..."

* * *

"... a good time tonight?"

"I was as the sculptor, Mother, inspired by his twin muses, now possessing dual visions of perfection as he chisels throughout the night to release his creations from their limestone prison; suffering for his art, his calloused hands aching from both the vibrating metal in his grasp, the grit attempting to enter his lungs, only succeeding in covering him with artful sand that descends, filling his shoes. 'Oh, bother,' he groans, reminded of how he hates Pismo Beach."

"That was very well done, Cabbage. I'm sorry your gleeful night has ended. No matter. Mommy had a nice time. Now, give Mommy a kiss, then off to see Mr. Sandman, Snookums-wookums."

"Yes, Mommy," Nathan answered dutifully, then, "Ow! Mommy, that hurt."

"Well, we did get a little tied up there, Lamby-Pie." Their mustaches entangled for an instance before pulling free. "Remember to brush your teeth, while I compensate your ladies of this evening." The girls flinched. "Girls?"

"We're sorry."

"Sorry about what, Ladies?"

"Uh, that, uh, Nathan hadn't brushed his teeth yet?" Candida asks, poorly back peddling.

Nathan marches upstairs, well inside of Candida Keagle's reach. Adding a skip to his step, he grins, adding, "Good night Fiona. Good night, 'Candy.' Mommy? They were fun," then, with a stampede of footsteps, rounds the corner to disappear upstairs where he knows himself safe in his own bedroom and out of Candida's clutches.

"We're really sorry about -"

"Darling, no matter. You will do better next time."

"(Yeah, like there'll be a next time, Mrs. Mustache.)"

"I'm sorry, Precious; what did you say?"

* * *

"I said, 'You're home early.' Didn't you have a nice time?."

"I had a WON-der-FUL Eve-Ning, Jelly Keely Roll. [Hic!] DA Bestesses! Right, Girls? Whar'd thay go?"

Wisely? Cautiously? Whatever their motivation, her companions of the evening had immediately piled back into their cab after playing doorbell ditch with their champion. All Keely could make out were their bright headlights blinding her as the taxi spun around to find its next destination, based on C6O2Na4 influenced directions. Good luck.

"Mother! You're drunk! How could you? You know better than to let yourself get into this condition. This is irresponsible. How are you going to work tomorrow?"

"I'm sorry." Sloshed Mandy bear-hugs her daughter, first jovially, then uncontrollably she start sobbing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Sweet Tarts, I'm so sorry. Bwah-ah-ah-ahh!"

"There, there. Don't cry. It's nothing, but ..."

* * *

"... short work for a little club soda. Please, my nightingales, stop crying. You'll only stain the carpet with your tears."

The girls start sniffling to call the end to their crying - say ten-percent actual emotion and 90-percent well practiced alligator tears well practiced at home on their own parents. Oh, and the actual emotion? That wasn't for guilt. No, it was a mixture of Nathan, who'd actually created the stain, escaping their wrath, and for the fear of being charged with the cleaning fee, on top of possibly not being paid tonight, that was the true source of their selfish sobbing.

Not thrilled with the pink stain on the carpet, but, in truth, Nathan's mother expected much worse after leaving her greatest treasure in the company of only two young baby sitters. She'd only done that because once before it had gone so well. What were their names? Bill and Tee Lee? Hee- Hee? Deely? No matter. Ordinarily, she hired four sitters for her son, one for each corner of the compass, for which he was ever heading. Such a darling dervish. But this night, she had economized. Well worth the cost of a can of club soda. There! It was done. It was hardly noticeable now, mostly. Reaching out for a hand to help her up ...

* * *

... she found not Keely's grip, but Phil Diffy's. What was Phil Diffy doing alone with her daughter while she was out visiting tonight with her office workers? Was that lipstick on his face? Why is his shirt on backward? Why is the room spinning? BAMM!

* * *

"Oh, my! What fell over, Sweetums?"

"Just my copy of the Iliad and the Odyssey, Mommy." BAMM! "And, and, War and Peace." BAMM! BAMM! BAMM! "The Collected Works of Charles Dickens, my collegiate thesaurus, and The Lost Pony Trilogy. Sorry, Mommy."

"That's alright, Snooky-Wookums. Remember to floss in back. Mommy will be up soon to tuck you in."

It required all the girls' will power to keep their dinners down. Only the promise of cold, hard cash soothed their headaches. After tonight, they each were going ...

* * *

"... to have one doozy of a headache. Phil, I think I saw her head bounce twice."

"I know, I know."

"Well, don't just stand there. Help me lift her up and carry her upstairs to bed." Phil didn't move. "Well, are you going to take some responsibility tonight, Mister, or not?"

"I'm just - do you really think - what if we drop her on the way up? How about the couch instead, Keels?"

"Oh. Yeah. Good idea. Thanks. Okay scratch going up the ..."

* * *

... staircase, Candida Keagle replayed the previous few moments in her mind:

Nathan had marched just out of Candida Keagle's grasping talons, all thanks to Fiona Lamky, soon to be on Fiona's short list of zombies needing to be replanted. Adding a skip to his step, he rounded the corner, passing the pink patch on the carpet. Candida quietly screamed so only the three of them can hear. The moment to take revenge had passed. Fiona would have to pay for this, too.

"Can I go upstairs to say 'good night' to Nathan?"

"Oh, how sweet. That's very thoughtful of you, Candy." Wincing, Candida grimaces a smile swelling with venom behind it. "Go right up. Go! Go! Such a special girl."

"Yes, she's a real Mother Teresa." BAMM! There was that sound again. "Say, you don't have any other spare kids, do you?"

"Just my little Nathan. 'Spare children?' Why would you postulate such a thing, 'Fifi'?"

"No reason," lied Fiona, biting her bottom lip as her mind drifted up stairs. No reason at all ...

* * *

"... to explain why she's sleeping on the couch. Uh, uh, what'll I tell her? Um, I was upstairs asleep when she came home. Alone. I was alone."

"Keely, it's -"

"She must have come in and decided to sit on the couch, then fell asleep."

"Keely -"

"Alone. Her, not me, well, both. Ha-ha. Don't just stand there. Say something, Phil!"

"ARGGH! What I've been trying to suggest, Keely, is that you simply tell her you were ..."

* * *

"... hiding, Nathan?" Candida asked as if she were a cat now bored with playing with her mouse, ready to end the game. She step through the doorway into Nathan's room, but Nathan wasn't hiding, nor were there any books on the floor - only dead bugs. "Na-Na-than?"

"Candy Cane! Did you come up to tuck me in and tell me a story?"

Right at that instance, the teen in his Cheshire presence could only think of one, and it wasn't really a story. It was "This Little Piggie," for Nathan was on his knees before her, garbed only in baby blue fleece pajamas, complete with footsies and a hood that once likely supported rabbit ears, but he had gnawed them down to porcine quality. Oh, yeah, and there was a carpenter's hammer in his hand. That explained the bugs, and her sudden overwhelming regret for wearing open-toed shoes that displayed her bug-sized toes. Flashes of her mother reciting "this one goes to the market" while wiggling her big toe after her bath distracted her as Nathan moved closer with his not-so-little hammer. BAMM!

"What was that?" was called from downstairs.

"Nothing, Mommy!" Nathan held up the bug juice-encrusted hammer to the baby sitter's face. "See? That was a big one. I saved you, and now you own me."

Candida swallowed, looking for her voice once more while mentally counting her toes, "I owe you, Nathan. For what you did to me, I owe you -"

* * *

"... so much. I'm sorry I yelled. Sorry. Ice for her head was a good idea. Thanks."

"You're saying 'sorry' a lot, Keely."

"Sorry."

"Take a deep breath, Keels. Everything is going to be all right. Better than all right. Better than ever! You'll see, and, Keely, you never owe me a thing."

"Of course, I do. I owe you ..."

* * *

"... Nathan. For what you did to me, I owe you, you - you - you little - wart. Yeah, that's right. You're just a little wart -"

"With a hammer."

"Uh, check. Um ..."

"You know what, my artificially sweetened baby sitter? We're really a lot alike."

"Eww! Shut up, Wart."

"Come on, Candida. We both know we're superior to our peers." Candida didn't disagree. "We're attractive." Well, he would look silly without his mustache, unless he was female - what's the matter with his mother? Hasn't she heard of Lady Schick? Do all the mirrors in this house stop working below her nose? "And we both enjoy ordering people around, humiliating them - I like smashing stuff, too." Wrecking stuff was messy, but trashing people? They pretty much cleaned up after themselves. In Candida's Fashion Zombie Universe, one feels better about themselves by making others feel worse when considering their own lot in life ... but it just felt so wrong to let the little wart not lose.

"I owe you, Nathan. For what you did to me, I owe you -"

* * *

"Let me stop you right there, Keely Teslow. You don't own me a thing. We're a couple, correct? I get as much pleasure out of making you know you're loved, of feeling the way you did, as you seemed to be enjoying yourself."

"Not possible. Not in a century. Not in a -"

"That's the way it works, Honey. I can only be happy when you're happy - and you seemed pretty happy there for a moment tonight."

"More than a moment, Phil. At least two."

"Well, I tried. Did you have - I still feel you're not getting as much out of our relationship as I am, Phil. I owe you -"

"Let me stop you right there, 'Pumpkin Buns.' We're a couple, correct? I got as much pleasure out of making you feel the way you did, as you seemed to be enjoying yourself."

"Not possible. Not in a century. Not in a -"

"That's the way it works, Honey. I can only be happy when you're happy - and you seemed pretty happy there for a moment."

"More than a moment, Phil. At least two."

"Well, I tried. Did you have ..."

* * *

"... any problems tonight? Be honest."

"Me, personally? No, not me. Gee, I - we, better be going. School night, you know. CANDIDA?"

"NATHAN! Say 'goodnight!' Your ladies of this evening," Fiona Lamky winced to hear his mother called out for her son - more for her designation of them than for her volume, "have to go to bed, too. NATHAN!"

Upstairs, Nathan was starting to sweat. Fiona didn't like losing. Already, she had stepped on his hammer, pinning his tool to the floor and he knew he was next. Nathan had miscalculated - Fiona wasn't on the market for a kindred spirit, let alone a shrimp who considered himself her equal. It would be so easy to settle this once and for all. Except -

"It's my uncle, isn't it? That's why you're - can I have my hammer back? Thank you. While it's true that I my uncle wouldn't give you an 'A' just if I told him to," Candida stepped on Nathan's hand now, "Ow. I am his only nephew and he'd take a personal dislike to the work of anyone who'd hurt me."

The little wart was right. On the other hand, if he sweet talked his Unc' like he just did to his mother downstairs, her B-minuses might become B-pluses. Maybe she wouldn't Compound W this blemish just yet. Plus, she still had to get paid for tonight's misery. She eased up on his hand. She couldn't afford losing tonight's earnings and she could afford allowing this little worm of a boy to dangling upon her hooks a little longer. After all, she knew where he lived, had already told his mother that she'd done a good job, so he had impaled himself upon her hook himself; she could reel in her little worm anytime she wished - maybe he'd even catch a big, fat fish for her. Yes, that was the thing to do, leave the miserably little worm alone on the line for now. She'd get him later.

Tonight's misery was almost over. Perhaps 'misery' was too strong a term. It had started out so enticing, so romantic, but after they had been at their most intimate physically, his sweet Keely had turned on him. What happened? Nothing he said or did seemed right or good enough. She made him feel like a carbuncle on Life's keister. She had been encouraging him to cross over this line in their relationship, so why, after he - they - why was she snapping at him all the time? Was she mean? No. The Keely Teslow he knew and loved wasn't even mean to his sister. Oh, she may enjoy transforming candied annelids into something more wriggly and not nearly so sweet inside a certain Fashion Zombie's maw, but 'mean?' Nah.

* * *

What other reasons are there to snap at the one you love? 'Scared?' Could that be it? Was Keely simply scared?

"I ain't afraid of none of yah. I can lick any one of youse here. Gimme some darts. Ow."

"Was that?"

"I think your mom's going to be all right, if you don't count her hangover. I doubt she's even going to notice any bumps on her head."

Keely laughed, and Mandy, floating in an out of consciousness, unintentionally entertained the young couple as her night's adventure sometimes reminisced in her pickled mind.

"I'll stay down here with Mom, Phil," Keely decided, no longer afraid if her mother was going to be okay, or what she might say in the morning. She kissed her mother goodnight, then did the same - well, not quite the same - to her boyfriend, before settling on to a nearby recliner. So relieved was Phil in Keely's about-face that he released a loud, happy sigh before covering both the ladies with nearby afghans, throwing it over Mrs. T, while clearly tucking his Keely in.

"Night, Keels."

"Night-night, Phil. You aren't going to stay? What about our unfinished business?"

"Huh?"

* * *

"You know."

"Really. Everything just went peachy tonight. Yep. That about covers it. No unfinished business here. Gonna call it a night. CANDIDA! IT'S TIME TO GO!" Where is she? Probably hiding the body, or staging the scene to look like it was an accident - just another little boy who tried to stuff as many Hot Wheels in his mouth as he could, then a few accidentally took a wrong turn down his trachea. Maybe, tired and standing on his bed, he tried flossing his teeth around his throat, getting the thread tangled on the bedpost and stepped off the mattress, only to be found the next day dangling like some worm on a hook. Maybe they'll find a note he was forced to write saying -

"Ready. It's been a real pleasure sitting for you tonight. Nathan is such an angel. Really."

"Thank you, Dahlings."

The girls make eye contact. Fiona's asking "What did you do?" while Candida's just conveying, "Let's get out of here, now!" Making a beeline for the exit, they grab their jackets and had just cracked open the way to their freedom when Nathan's mother throws her full weight, which is considerable, against the door, slamming it shut!"

"Oh, my dears, you simply can't go now," she insisted, but with tittering laughter in her insistence.

"W-W-We can't?" the girls replied in guilty unison.

"No, there's still a matter of your emolument."

"Ma'am?"

"I believe we previously came to agreement as to equitable emolument for your services this night."

Blank response were all the teens offered up.

"Emolument? Honorarium? Emdemnification ...," her voice lost it's lyrical quality and became lower and more pedestrian, "what I owe your for tonight?"

"Oh! Yeah," came the reply, with bobbing heads sporting smiles.

"Adelaide, my brother. I don't know how you stand it ..."

* * *

"... when I get that way. I must seem a total head case."

He smiled, "Well, not 'total,' maybe 99.9. I just remind myself that I know you, at your core, and that you'd never intentionally hurt me or anyone. Then, I go trying to figure out why you're behaving, you know, 'not you.'"

"Sorry."

"That's okay. Exhausting, but you're worth it. It'd be a big help, however, if you'd give me more clues, maybe a note on the fridge ..."

"Okay, I get it. Communicate better."

" ... a special broadcast of "The News With Keely Teslow, I'm Keely Teslow" ..."

"I already said "I get it, Phil."

"... skywriting. Skywriting would be nice. I know a pilot whose work you admire and -" she kissed him to shut him up, and made a mental note that this always seemed to work. Their kissing continued until Mandy started off again answering imaginary phone calls.

"Guess you better call it a night, after all, Phil."

"You'll be fine?"

* * *

"Yes, we'll both be fine. Go on, dash home."

"What did you say, 'Fifi'?"

Whoops! Her partner quickly spun her remark, "Mustache away home with any dilly-dallying. Tonight's a school night, you know." Had Candida gotten away with it?

"Yes, Darlings, Thank you for this evening and be careful walking home."

"Whew." The battlin' baby sitters had gotten away with it.

"Remember, same time tomorrow night. Don't be late."

"Listen," her words rang in their ears, "it's not that it's not a lot of money to make in one night, but you really don't want to do this. Better to scrub toilets at a penny a seat, dig up earthworms for half that price, paint houses with your own hair for the brush ..."

"Pim Diffy put you up to this, didn't she?"

"What? No. I'm just trying to give you some good advice. You two do not want to sit for this kid, cuz he's, he's ... he's a tiny tornado of trouble."

"Sounds like somebody is trying to scare us away from easy money, just so she can steal the job out from under us."

"Not that it's any of your business, but I'll be busy studying with Phil that night." Her audience shared secret glances. "Ooh! Try to do some people a favor! Never mind. I take it all back! He's a darling little gentleman. If you don't believe me, just ask his mother. If he gets hungry, just make him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich." With that, the sage stomped off with disgust as Fiona and Candida tittered and guffawed. High-fiving, the girls congratulated themselves for being too smart to fall for this obvious ploy to separate them from cold, hard cash.

Walking down the driveway, Fiona whispered to her leader, "So, should we meet here tomorrow, or -"

"You're kidding, right?"

"But we said -"

"Something else came up."

"Messerschmitt's not going to believe that."

"Yes, he will. Everyone will. It'll be on 'Live With Keely Teslow.'"

"What will?"

"That I'm selflessly spending my nights nursing an injured friend back to health."

"Um ... which friend?"

"Oh, I don't know, a name will come to me. You got paid, too, right? Which way should we take home? The bike path or the short cut over Frayed Rope Bridge over Dead-"

"I - I just remembered that I owe you some money. (SIGH) Here."

"Thanks. We'll take the bike path. Maybe will stop by and see if Pim-ple is still up, and Fiona?"

"Yes, Candida?"

"Next time Keely Teslow offers us some friendly free advice. We take it right away. Agreed?"

"Definitely. For us, no more 'playing around.'"

_Fin_

**_Author's Note: If you enjoyed this story, be certain to PM a word of thanks to SlickNickShady for inspiring it. Thanks Nick!_**


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